Lesley Diane Sutherland (Chester, England)
'Is there some place that can not be explored? '
He enquired as he lazily smiled,
Lifting one soft, stockinged foot to his lips
Feeling quite sure he had her beguiled.
His delicate fingers are well practiced
It's true, and adept at strumming a tune
On the beautiful women that he knew
Who believed what his eyes implied.
Snake's eyes, snake's tongue
Worming his wicked way
Insidiously forcing, overbearing
Determined to win this day.
How can he fail? She looks so frail,
So vulnerable, lovely and fainting,
He's found the lace, the dainties too,
There's absolutely nothing she can do...
He wanders in and takes his place
Aroused by the flushing in her face
The parted lips, the half-closed eyes
The softly, swooning, gasping sighs...
Ah, ladies, how the gothic heros
Enshrined in old romantic stories
Fed our souls, our imaginations
Filled our letters and our diaries,
At what age did you discover
No man's really like that lover;
That black-eyed, throbbing macho-male,
That life is real, and love's a tale?
Comments about this poem (The Lover by Lesley Diane Sutherland )
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